


As Requested, a Stiles

by LycanLover



Series: Kingsman in a Red Hoodie [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Language, Let's get Stiles settled into Kingsman, M/M, Multi, Other Pairings TBD - Freeform, References to PTSD and panic attacks, Stiles!Post-Nogitsune and V-Day, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:52:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4392629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LycanLover/pseuds/LycanLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes to any secret spy agency, everyone knew Kingsman was the best. Happy to run even further away from his past, Stiles gratefully accepts his transfer into their ranks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Requested, a Stiles

**Author's Note:**

> I own neither Kingsman: The Secret Service nor Teen Wolf.
> 
> This is a plot baby that came from pestering Elynight one day. It kinda grew out of control and this is what I'm hoping is the start of a fun series of fics revolving around Stiles and our favorite Kingsmen. Who knows, a few TW characters may pop up at some point. There are a few I don't think I could leave out even if I tried.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was a quiet afternoon in the Kingsman tailor shop. The wind battered the rain against the front window. It had been a dreary week, and with the world still on it’s way to recovering from the V-Day massacres, the expensive shop was dead. It would only be a matter of time before the wealthy, the new and surviving old, to need their services again. 

The peaceful atmosphere was broken by the door and a soaking wet Eggsy Unwin stumbling in, cursing. He shook out his standard issue umbrella before pulling the door shut behind him. His shoes squelched as he moved through the shop.

“S’not funny,” he grumbled when Anthony smiled from his post behind the counter.

“You’re late. Arthur is in the dining room, but I’m sure he won’t mind if you take time to change your footwear.”

“Naw,” Eggsy grinned. “Might as well get it over with.”

“I’ll have a fresh pair waiting of you when you’re done, Sir.”

Eggsy took the stairs two at a time. “You’re the gov’ner, Tony!” He called out.

With only a small slip on the aged hardwood floor, Eggsy burst into the dining room.

“What have I told you about knocking?” Harry Hart scolded from his chair at the head of the table.

Eggsy fell into his seat and shrugged. “I was late. Just tryin’ to hurry up so’s ya wasn’t waiting for me.”

“Another perpetually late Galahad,” Merlin said. He closed the doors behind him and took his usual position by the fireplace.

Harry smiled. “The name’s cursed.”

“More like you all just keep picking younger versions of yourselves.”

“I’ll have you know Eggsy is very much his own person.” Harry frowned. Eggsy was grinning at them both while toeing his shoes off. “He’s hardly like me.”

“Sure,” Merlin said. He knew better than anyone that the two were both stubborn to a fault. And it was only his upbringing that kept Harry from opening his mouth on some occasions. Eggy’s extensive training had taught him to hold his own tongue, except in circumstances where he couldn’t seem to help himself. Not that Harry reprimanded him for it. Most of the things Eggsy said were things Harry, and most times Merlin, had been thinking.

Merlin took a breath, ready to launch into his prepared opening, but Eggsy’s chair scraping the floor cut him off. He propped his foot onto the opposite knee and peeled his sock off. It hit the floor with a splat. 

“Classy.” Merlin tapped his clipboard sharply. “This isn’t a mission briefing.”

“The fuck is it then?” They never used the dining room except for that sort of stuff.

Harry sighed. “We’ve encountered our first supernatural hiccup. The expert we had on staff turned out to be not so much an expert. While his book knowledge was extensive, we need someone with field experience. Lucky, the Americans have more than one. So, we’ve requested a transfer.”

Eggsy’s mouth twisted as he looked up at the screen. It wasn’t a flattering picture. It was fuzzy, like a snapshot pulled off a security camera. The guy was sloppily dressed, his hair the epitome of bedhead. He looked about as far from a Kingsman as Eggsy did when he was first recruited and in his off time. This guy had a background in dealing with Supernaturals? 

It was mind boggling enough for Eggsy, and the rest of the world, to discover the hidden creatures living around them. The effects from Valentine’s cards had cut away the iron control many had. There were werewolves tearing through little towns, magic users setting things on fire and blasting away walls. Fucking creepy looking things emerging from the shadows everywhere. If things weren’t fucked up enough, now they had this to deal with. Eggsy was thankful he hadn’t had a mission with any of them yet. 

“So he’s an American agent?”

“No,” Merlin pulled up another page, “he’s in my department. They recruited him straight out of V-Day and he’s been working his way up the ranks for the last seventeen months.”

Now Eggsy was really confused. “Then what the fuck do they think they’re doing sendin’ a desk jockey over here to do field work? No offense, Merlin.” He blushed and shrugged. Merlin was sort of the exception, even if all staff were trained in some for of combat and weaponry, but it was never to the extent that the Agents themselves were. The support staff was never meant to be put into the field without a shit ton of preparation. 

“It may have something to do with the twenty-eight people he murdered in his dormitory when he went as bonkers as the rest of the world,” Merlin deadpanned.

“You takin’ the piss?”

“No.” A picture of a bloody hallway popped up. “He did it all with a combination of knives and a small caliber handgun.”

“Sonvabitch. And they left him on desk duty?” The younger man did not look like the type. 

"He requested it."

“Alright, so what’s this got to do with me?”

Harry cleared his throat, one of the many nervous ticks Eggsy had picked up about the man. Merlin grinned and Eggsy knew he wasn’t going to like whatever they had to say.

“You’re his babysitter.”

“No!”

Harry sighed and leaned across the table, laying his hand over Eggsy’s. “He seems unassuming, and the credentials his supervisor sent over were… incomplete.”

“Ya thinking’ he’s a plant?”

“It’s possible,” Merlin conceded. “The American Secret Specialty-Ops were the fastest to get back on their feet, after ourselves of course. They started recruiting not two days after V-Day. Chester being an large exception, there are very, _very_ , few traitors within the Agency. Our extensive background checks and whatnot keep it from happening. But with the speed they refilled their ranks at, it’s possible someone slipped through the cracks. More than likely he’s fast on the rise and his boss wants him out to keep his own job. It’s just our luck that Mr. Stilinski is very qualified for what we need.”

Eggsy opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off. “I want our best agent on him. He was a university student before, and now he’s been trained, rather reluctantly, by our American counterparts. God knows what he’ll be like.”

And how could Eggsy say anything against that. Especially combined with Harry’s damned puppy eyes.

“Fuck. You two owe me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eggsy refused to hold the sign that Merlin had handed him. Fuck him and his smarmy little smirk. 

He didn’t wait at the gate, instead figuring if he was there to help gather the guy’s shit up he could go ahead and get him to the manor and be done with him for a while. Merlin already said he would be getting Stilinski settled into his office and prepare him for how things worked at Kingsman. 

Now if the fucker would hurry up, Eggsy might make it back to the shop in time to hitch a ride home with Harry.

A crowd came around the bend, luggage from the flight already circling. Eggsy scanned the crowd, avoiding the few that tried to catch his eye. He didn’t have the patience for anything that may lead to him making small talk with a bored person looking to kill time waiting for their luggage. It was fifteen minutes later and only a few were still hanging about. There were several large trunks leftover and Eggsy felt sorry for the poor bastard dealing with those.

The sounds of feet pounding on the tile floor pulled Eggy’s attention to the Customs hallway. 

“Holy shit!” He watched as Stilinski all but collapsed against the turnstile. He dragged the nearest trunk down to the floor, grumbling, “Stupid assholes. Ya’d think when my paperwork says to not stop me at Customs, they’d not stop me!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Eggsy dragged his feet as he approached him, hesitant to interrupt Stilinski’s bitching as it was pretty entertaining to watch him make the faces of the people who stopped him while he imitated their tone. He stopped a few feet away, enjoying how Stilinski stopped mid-sentence and raised one brow at Eggsy’s shiny Oxfords. “Please tell me those ain’t all yours.”

“Huh?” Stilinski looked up fully. He pulled himself to his feet, a large canvas bag sliding off his shoulder. “Can I help you?”

Eggsy paused, staring into the biggest brown eyes he’d ever seen. There was no way this guy was more than twenty-one, even if he was about the same height as him. He stood there in a pair of loose jeans, a faded red hoodie halfway zipped, looking more like an exhausted university student than an expert on all things Supernatural.

“Stilinski?” He got a nod. “I’m Galahad.”

His eyes got even bigger, mouth dropping. “G-galahad?” 

Eggsy couldn’t contain a cocky smirk. His reputation was well known, even in the U.S. “That’s me. Let’s get goin’, yeah? I got places to be.”

“Sure!” Stilinski turned quickly grabbing another trunk as it rolled past. “Just need a cart so I can haul all this. Unless you got some more fellas hanging about here in spiffy suits that can help. These ain’t light.”

“Ya shittin’ me?”

“Nope!” He grimaced. “I know it seems like a lot, but I wasn’t about to leave all my stuff back with Dellinor. That fat bastard can fuck off if he thinks I’m leaving my research and library for his greasy, wrinkly fingers. He can bitch all he wants. I didn’t spend years building this up and spilling my blood and chugging energy drinks for long nights to—“ He bit his lip. “Sorry. I ramble sometimes.”

Eggsy laughed. “S’okay. Hang on, I’ll get something to help us out.” He crossed the large room to the retable carts, shaking his head as he went. That kid had a mouth. His first impression wasn’t setting off any alarm bells, but Eggsy wasn’t about to let his guard down for a cute face.

Pulling a trolly behind him, Eggsy waited until one of the trunks came back around the turnstile. He lifted it, muscles straining under the weight. He nearly dropped it when he saw Stilinski haul one up by himself. Eggsy quickly re-evaluated how much muscle mass there was under the baggy clothes. He moved to grab the last one. Once the three were loaded, Stilinski shouldered his bag and looked at Eggsy expectantly. “Where to?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles was baffled when Eggsy led him to two shiny black cars, and getting Stiles’ trunks loaded into one. The inside was swank as hell. Stiles hadn’t been in a car that nice since Derek Hale’s Camaro back—

He gave a full body shiver. He couldn’t think about the past. Not about— Just no. 

London wasn’t his new beginning. That had been Washington, D.C. Turns out he was nothing but a human Google for Mr. Dellinor, the higher up who took credit for all his work. Yeah, he’d managed to sneak around the bastard and get himself promoted quite a few times, but now he was going to have to start at the bottom all over again. Dellinor thought he was so fucking clever, transferring him without informing him first. Stiles couldn’t wait until the bastard found out Stiles had taken everything with him. Every bit of Stiles’ work was on his personal laptop, so all that was left on his work station was the generic bestiary he’d put together for the rest of the Agents.

He hoped his successor was good enough to build off what was there. Otherwise they’d be calling up Stiles, and he didn’t have to answer to them anymore now that he was officially a part of Kingsman. He crossed his fingers that this staff wasn’t going to be like the last. But he was sure it wouldn’t be. The stories that he’d heard about Kingsman were almost legendary. Galahad himself was talked about with both a massive amount of respect and a heavy dose of fear. The Kingsman Agent was legendary, always the soloist, and with the highest kill count and success rate out of any other branch. How Stiles had ended up in a taxi with the man was a twisted sort of fate.

Yet Galahad was a mixed bag and Stiles was confused by him. He was dressed to the nines, the bespoke suit the Kingsman’s version of a uniform, but his accent was decidedly less suave. The U.S. ran their own agent trials much like Kingsman did, so he wondered how someone of a decidedly less than privileged birth managed to swing an invite. The only conclusion Stiles could come up with was that Galahad had been in the military, and done very fucking well for himself if he got picked out of them all to be a candidate. He looked young too, maybe around Stiles age. Far too young to have been involved in some of the older Galahad missions. Then again, Stiles looked barely into his late teens, so who knew how old Galahad really was.

“So, what’s Kingsman like?”

“Depends on what ya mean.”

“Umm.” Stiles didn’t move when Galahad turned to watch him. “Do you know anything about who I’ll be working with? Are they jerks or stuck up pricks who live by their rule book?”

Galahad smiled. “Worried?”

“If you’d met who I worked with before, you wouldn’t ask me that.”

He looked away from Galahad as he chuckled. Stiles didn’t find it funny. He had a legit concern. It couldn’t be any worse than back in America. At least that’s what he told himself. Eyes out the window, Stiles was glad that Galahad didn’t press him for any conversation. That didn’t stop him from peaking over at the good looking guy during the next forty-five minutes.

He really hoped they didn’t expect him to wear that stuff. He preferred his own clothes while he sat at his desk and sent out his research for others to use. Stiles had long ago gotten over trying to be a hero. They never lived for long. 

They slowed to make a left and Stiles couldn’t stop himself from turning to look out the window by Galahad. “Why isn’t he following us? Dude! All my books! My research, my— other stuff! What the fuck?”

“Calm down, brov. It’s just going on ahead of you. Or well,” Galahad grinned, “you’ll probably beat it there.”

That didn’t make a bit of sense, but Stiles bit his tongue and threw himself agains the seat. Bunch of sneaky—

“We’re spies, sneaky is something we’re supposed to be good at. Otherwise we ain’t spies for long, is we?”

Stiles glared at his own reflection and the blush darkening his neck and cheeks. He thought he’d broken himself from speaking his thoughts out loud. There was something about this whole situation that had Stiles shaken up. All the protections he’d carefully layered into place were chipping. He refused to go down that slippery slope. Stiles was content to ignore the dark places in his mind.

With the light rain falling and the sun setting quickly, Stiles stopped watching the city as it sped by. Lost in his thoughts, he jolted as the taxi stopped. He looked across the road at the line of shops. He felt Galahad popping his door open and sliding out. Stiles did the same, giving the driver a nod of thanks for his bag. 

“Come on.” Galahad held open a door and Stiles looked to the shop they were entering.

“Kingsman?” He asked incredulously.

“Finest tailors in… Well, anywheres.” 

Head shaking, Stiles trudged into the building. “Hope this isn’t an attempt to clean me up.”

Galahad laughed. “Fuck no. At least not yet.”

“Then what,” Stiles lowered his voice in the calm atmosphere, “what are we doing here?”

“Galahad.” Stiles looked beyond his guide to an elderly man working behind a counter. “Arthur is just about to leave.”

“Fuck! Okay, come on.” He reached out and pulled Stiles along by his coat sleeve. Stiles hoped he didn’t notice the flinch. He stumbled into a dressing room and saw his wide-eyed expression in a trifold mirror.

Eggsy released him, and Stiles hitched his bag higher, hiding his now shaking free hand in his pocket. He swallowed the bile back and reassured himself that he may have to get used to people being in his space. There might be a room mate or a shared office. 

“I’m sure you gents back in the U.S. have some neat toys, but this is fuckin’ old school.” He brushed against Stiles and tugged off a soft, leather glove and laid his bare palm to the mirror. Stiles jumped when the floor began to sink.  

“Woah. What in the— Is this a secret elevator?” He couldn’t shut his mouth from where is dropped in shock. He stared at the brick walls and up to the room above, the rush of something he’d not felt in a long time made Stiles almost dizzy. “That’s fucking awesome!”

“Innit?”

“Is it deep?”

Galahad laughed, loud and short, shaking his head and said, “It’s deep enough.”

“I don’t,” Stiles huffed, “Why do I feel like I’m falling down the rabbit hole?”

Galahad kept smiling, but didn’t say any more until they reached the bottom. He gestured for Stiles to get out. 

Stiles eyed the underground train car. He stepped into the tiled room but when he didn’t hear Galahad follow, he turned to see he was still standing in the elevator. “You’re not coming with me?” 

Eggsy laughed. “Naw, brov. I gotta go back up. Arthur’s waitin’ for me. Someone will meet you on the other end. Good luck.” He winked and without any sort of gesture or flipped switch, the floor began to rise again. Stiles wondered if it was on a timer.

Not wanting to hang around, Stiles threw his bag into a chair and stepped in, looking at the lack of seat belts. The side slid closed before he even got a chance to fully sit down and he yelped as the train whisked him away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So,” Harry shrugged his overcoat on, “did you completely bombard the boy with questions?”

“No.” Eggsy’s pout turned into a scowl when Harry cut him a knowing look. “Check m’feed if you don’t believe me!”

Harry raised his hands. “Alright, alright. I believe you, darling. Just a little surprised you could keep you mouth shut about it.” 

“Why’d they put him on a civilian flight anyways?”

“I’m not sure,” Harry mused. “They have access to more private airplanes than we do. It is peculiar. How was he when he got here?”

“He looked… Nervous or something. Not like, sneaky nervous, ya know? Just a bit jittery.” Eggsy shook his head, moving to hold the door open for Harry as they left the shop. “He was wondering about who he’d be workin’ with.”

“That’s not too surprising.” They circled the Kingsman taxi and slid in. “He’s in a new country, working with the best agency in the world. Of course he’s nervous. Keep your eye on him, like I asked. He’ll be in Merlin’s care for a few days, testing his knowledge and such, before we set him up with any open cases. You’ll be assisting him on those.”

“You mean I get to handle the supernatural, spooky shit?”

“Don’t get too excited. He’s going to be your main source of reference when it comes to those missions, so I hope you get along.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles had managed to get his breathing under control after the first five minutes. By the time the train slid to a stop, he didn’t feel like his lungs were collapsing in on themselves anymore. At least he was able to keep the panic attack from happening in front of someone else. He hated them, but having an audience was always worse.

“Welcome to Wonderland.”

Stiles shot out of his seat. “How did you— Never mind.” Bag hanging by his side, Stiles stepped out and looked over the man before him. His bald head reflected in the bright lights, but his smile and relaxed cardigan and slacks loosened the band around Stiles’ heart somewhat. Seemed like not everyone was regulated to the stiff looking suits and shiny shoes. He asked, “Does that make you the Caterpillar?”

Shifting a clipboard to one hand, he held his hand out, but dropped it when Stiles made no move to shake it. “Call me Merlin, Mr. Stilinski.”

He didn’t think that was any better a codename. “Stiles, man, just Stiles.”

“Well, Stiles, welcome to Kingsman. I see Galahad abandoned you. Typical.” He stepped backwards and held a hand out. “If you’ll follow me.”

Stiles nodded and started for the door, but his gaze was pulled to the large observation window and he wandered over. “Does Bond work here? Because this is just…” The rows of cars, government vehicles, planes and helicopters were impressive. “This is nothing like back home.”

“That’s because the ASS-O mostly hires former government employees. So it’s run in a similar manner. You’ll find it’s a bit different here.” Merlin held a door open. “Come on, I’ll show you to your office and then your room upstairs.”

“Upstairs?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had been expecting an apartment building, or some kind of office place, not a huge manor with sprawling grounds miles outside London. It was almost peaceful, if it weren’t for the knowledge of the independent spy organization underneath. Stiles stood out in the grass, the morning sky was overcast, sunlight fighting to get through the clouds. He didn’t know how to walk back inside, to deal with the new co-workers on his first day.

Everyone back at ASS-O knew to leave Stiles alone. He didn’t socialize and no one expected him to. It was going to be awkward and Stiles had no idea how to keep people away without making them all think he was some snide little prick from America who thought he was too good to hang out and talk with them.

He sighed, looking down at the manicured lawn, his sneakers dirty and way past their shelf life. He’d sworn to himself this would be a fresh start, without all the guilt and history weighing him down. One too many therapy sessions had drilled into Stiles’ head that he knew logically he wasn’t at fault for what happened on V-Day, but it didn’t stop the nightmares or panic attacks. 

Could he honestly give himself this chance? Really do it and not disappear into his head and computer and books? He hadn’t been close to anyone since the world wide attack, and he left all of them behind when he joined the ASS-O. 

Taking a few minutes to gather himself, Stiles turned and made his way back inside. There wasn’t a lot he had to look forward to in life back in the U.S. Kingsman deserved a fair chance. He had instructions to meet Merlin on the second level, down the hallway from his office. 

_His office_. That was a fucking trip. It was intimidating, with it’s huge desk and wall of bookcases, and it made Stiles miss his small cubical. There weren’t any windows in the underground room, but a large framed painting of a spring forest hung across from his desk. It made his heart clench for the woods back home, and brought up too many memories. He immediately asked Merlin if he could have it replaced with something else. He’d agreed, not even lifting an eyebrow at the shaky request, merely tapping away at his clipboard and asking if Stiles would prefer scenery or something more contemporary. At least he had room to grow. There were many books he’d had to pass up or put in storage because he had no room for them. He’d need to look into getting the few things he had stored away shipped over. 

The room he’d been assigned wasn’t anything to sneer at either. Most of the first floor was open conference rooms, public offices, while the second floor was all private rooms. They were old world enough that Stiles felt too nervous to touch anything. Not even move in the bed the night before. He was pretty sure the sheets alone cost more than his old Jeep. His stuff was going to look ridiculously out of place. He hoped this was temporary. 

With one last fortifying breath, Stiles knocked and waited until he heard Merlin call out of him to enter. 

“Morning. Sleep well?”

Stiles looked at the monitor covered wall, gaping at the numerous feeds, scrolling information, just a ridiculous amount of distraction for him. Oh, he was glad he didn’t have to see this every day. His head would explode from over stimulation. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat and said again, louder, “Yeah, fine.”

He met Merlin’s concerned eyes for a moment before skittering to the edge of the room and watching an odd video stream. It looked like it had been taken with a helmet Go-Pro camera. At the bottom of the screen there was a running line of data with the name Kay bright in the top right corner.

“That’s good. You brought your laptop?”

Stiles clenched his hands around the computer. It was his life’s work on the machine. Merlin had mentioned the day before that he wanted to see everything Stiles had complied, but now that the time had come he was reluctant to turn it over. Merlin hadn’t given Stiles any proof he wasn’t like Dellinor. 

He was running on faith, and that was something Stiles stopped believing in a long fucking time ago. 

Merlin held his hand out. “I promise to try and not be too invasive. I understand how important something like this is.” He gestured to the room around him. “Welcome to my brain.”

Stiles’ breath caught, and he nodded.

It didn’t take long for him to get everything pulled up. All the files were neatly arranged and Merlin wasted no time in plucking the laptop away from Stiles. Muttering under his breath, he ignored Stiles completely until he apparently found something particular.

“You have a quite a bit on fairies. Any reason why? They’re not indigenous to North America.”

“There were a few that were looking to come into the U.S. and it fell on me to find out if they were _safe_.” He rolled his eyes. “But that led me to think that, hey, say something else decides to cross over and my department, if you could call me, Dellinor and two other bastards a department, would not have been prepared. Idiots. So I spent a weekend digging up what I could about the major foreign Supernaturals, and then trickled down from there over the next few weeks.”

“This is incredible.” Merlin smirked at him. “Bit of an obsession?”

“More like survival and necessity.” Stiles cleared his throat. “Is there something going on with any spriggans?”

“No, not that I’m aware of,” Merlin admitted slowly. “There’s a town in Wales thats having a spot of trouble with a werewolf pack.” He navigated back and after clicking into the appropriate folder, Merlin sat back. “Well, fuck me.”

Stiles grimaced. Werewolves were what he knew best after all. There were dozens of files. Everything from pack hierarchies, protocols, profiles on larger packs, older ones, even new ones that had cropped up after V-Day from when packs who had decimated themselves joined up with others who’d done the same. 

“If all this is accurate—“

“It is.”

“Cocky?”

Stiles shrugged. “Confident. I don’t mind prepping an agent about what they can except, depending on the circumstances.”

“Good!” Merlin shut the laptop and held it out. Only to pull it back when Stiles reached for it. “I except a copy of whatever you feel is necessary to brief Galahad with. When he heads out I want you here two hours early so I can walk you through the equipment. He’ll need you in his ear to ease him through things. At least until he becomes more knowledgable.”

“Galahad? Wait,” he took the computer and tucked it under his arm, “you mean I have to be on monitor?”

“Of course. You didn’t think you’d just tell him everything, give him some reading and pat him on the back as he leaves?”

“Uh, yeah! I’ve never had to monitor before!”

“You’ll be fine. I’m not leaving you alone with him.” Stiles could hear the silent _Obviously_. Like they’d leave the fate of one of their best in his shaky, rookie hands. “You’ll be meeting Arthur later this afternoon. The mission dossier is on your desk. Make sure you have something for me to look at by then.”

It took Stiles an hour to dig through the file, separating out all the wordy, nonsensical parts that his predecessor had felt the need to include. If there was one thing Stiles had picked up on early in his career, it was that agents tended to want a Cliff Notes version. 

It almost always got them into trouble later because, “Who needs the fine print, boy, just give me the meat of it and let us do _our_ job while you dig through another stinky book.” Stiles had a tendency to mutter under his breath as he read, but after going through everything with a highlighter and a red pen, he was pretty sure he’d managed to get out most of the junk. Now he was much more easily distracted as he retyped everything. 

“You must have worked with a right bunch of arseholes,” came a voice from the previously cracked doorway. Stiles flinched violently in his chair, cracking his knee on the desk and swearing. Galahad looked at him with a questioning tilt to his brow and an amused smile. “You alrigh’ over there?”

“Fine, fine.” Stiles wanted to glare at him. “What’d you want?” He shuffled the few papers he had left to transcribe.

“Technically? I’m suppose to walk ya to the meeting.” Galahad slinked over to the arm chair in the back corner. “But that’s not for another hour or something. You busy?”

Stiles slumped. “Naw. Just trying to get some things together. Ya know, for _your_ mission. Nothing too important. S’not like you’ll need it or anything.”

Galahad flew out of the chair and crowded at Stiles’ shoulder. He grinned, speaking so quickly that Stiles nearly didn’t catch what he said. “Yeah? What are we doing?”

“Werewolves.” He leaned forward. “I don’t know when it’ll happen. I have no idea what type of prep time you guys like to have.” As Galahad leaned away, stepping back to the corner with a huge smile. Stiles hurried to finish. He refused to notice how much his hands shook as he tried to type.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With Stilinski, or Stiles as Merlin informed him, ignoring him, Eggsy pulled his phone out. He had his own preparing to do for another mission, even if it was harder to see the blueprints on the smaller screen. At least he’d be somewhat briefed, and then Merlin couldn’t glare at him. He always fucking knew when Eggsy didn’t bother to look over the stuff he sent him before hand.

He only looked up completely when Stiles stood and cracked his back. The printer beside Eggsy came to life and it was training alone that stopped him from jumping at the noise. Stiles blinked when he turned to gather the pages that were printing out. “Forget about me?”

Stiles stuffed the papers into a folder, leaving the original documents in a messy pile on his desk. “No. Don’t we need to go? I tend to lose track of time when I’m focused and I have no idea how long it takes to get to… wherever.”

“Shit!” Eggsy checked his watch. “Come on!” He dashed out the door, Stiles hot on his heels.

Running through the maze of hallways that he’d long since memorized back in his trainee days, it didn’t take them long to get there. Stiles was panting while Eggsy ran a hand through his hair and tugged at his shirt sleeves. 

“Ready?” Stiles managed a nod. Eggsy winked. “Arthur’s not going to bite your head off since this is your first time. So don’t worry, brov.”

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never met the man. Merlin seems like the type that would.”

Eggsy couldn’t argue there. Merlin was touchy about protocol, at least until he decided that it was worth throwing out the window. Anyone else better stick to the script.

Swinging the door open, Eggsy waved Stiles in. He paused behind Stiles, drinking in the sight of his former mentor turned _much more._

Harry was seated at the end of the table, his dark blue suit and tie popping against the pale walls. Eggsy loved him in that color. His own suit choices had gotten a bit bolder, ties and such of more color, as he’d settled into his role. But trust Harry to be traditional down to his socks.

“Arthur, meet our new Supernatural expert, Stiles Stilinski.”

He could see Harry bite back a smile, probably charmed at the name. “ _Stiles_ Stilinski?”

Eggsy shot him a wink over Stiles’ shoulder, but his good humor quickly formed into confusion when Stiles back stiffened. Eggsy stepped around him and frowned at the hard eyes and thinned lips. Stiles snapped, “Yup. That’s me. Despite my _name_ , I’m highly qualified.”

“I never assumed you wouldn’t be,” Harry said, his tone calm and soothing. Unfortunately, it just riled Stiles up more.

“Sure you didn’t,” he sneered. He tossed the folder onto the table. It slid until Merlin shot a hand out to stop it from hitting the floor. “I hope my work is up to your satisfaction. I trimmed down what was in there to the most relevant points. Galahad shouldn’t have any trouble. It’s mostly diplomatic.”

“Wait, I’m playing peace keeper?” Eggsy scoffed. Those sorts of missions always had him itching to do some damage after weeks of sitting around talking.

“Not everything involving the Supernatural means killing them.” 

“Too true,” Harry agreed, nodding at Stiles.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Eggsy said. 

“Yes you did.” Merlin looked up from where he’d been pursuing the papers. “You’ll be handling all the Supernatural cases for now. At least until I determine another agent that would do well with the circumstances.”

“If that’s all you need me for,” Stiles moved towards the door, “I’ll take my leave.”

“Sure,” Merlin drawled. “This was just so you and Arthur could have a face to face meeting. I’ll review this and we’ll reconvene to discuss approaching the pack.”

Stiles nodded sharply at Merlin, completely ignoring Harry and said a quiet goodbye to Eggsy. With the door shut behind him, Merlin and Eggsy raised their brows at Harry.

“Well,” Merlin shook his head, “I’m not sure what happened just now.”

Harry sighed. “Clearly we aren’t getting off on the right foot. Perhaps he has issues with authority figures.” He cut his eyes at Eggsy and smiled at the smirk he got.

“We should get along great then!”

“God help us all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> If there's any mistakes please let me know. This had my eyes only on it for the most part, and I can be a terrible editor. Look me up on Tumblr at bespoketrainers.tumblr.com for other ideas and peaks at future pieces for this series!


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